Intro

Welcome to a story, or stories I should say. A compilation of adventure tales. An ongoing itch to see, smell, and touch the world, or at least the deserted roads and rarely trampled mountains of America. Characters within the descriptive paragraphs of these stories carve out the coming and going companions in life; vital life people and pieces that parallel a universe for moments, days, years. And then spear off, leaving granules of magnificent memories of magical places. They leave a lasting trace, a gained sense of courage to stand tall on oxygen deprived mountains and shout absurdities like: I love you Ralph! Ralph is a teenage reindeer stuffed of the finest synthetic polyester fiber poof; he says made in Indonesia but really tells me he is from the North Pole. Delivered through a chimney one December night 20 years ago, we instantly became cuddle buddies upon that morning's sunrise. He is the instigator. The inspiration. And the imagination. He breathes creativity. Laughter. His is a dear companion. And yes, at 4lbs he tags along atop a pack or strapped to a rack. In delirium of 107 degree heat, the small possession of material belongings gain a persona. Innate objects become friends of the road and trails. And as for the humans who accompany, their presence reads priceless. Without O'Reilly, a 29 year old New Hampshirian with superior taste buds, the mathematical six foot four inch tall German, or handful of organic peanut butter and 99 cent jam eating munchkins, there would be a lot less excitement. The encounters we make with our specie, encapsulating the world with their awkward ways and over consumerist love, somehow we have managed to become overly adored creatures. Their generous hearts restore a faith that goodness prevails in the upheaval of a sometimes lost humanity. As for myself, I'm just the navigator, paddling up the stream of life munching on Clif Bars, with an iPhone documenting the frailties and goodies underneath all the simplified complexities in the world we reside. So again, I welcome you to get lost and dream a little through this typed text and your imagination. My name is Kristen Gentilucci. I live in Berkeley California and I love dogs.


Monday, July 23, 2012

Day 35. Bicycles of Tulsa

Miles: 82
Weather: same as always 102 degrees with a headwind from hell.

Today was like finding a shady apple tree on a relaxing warm summer day sipping ice cold lemonade, as in awesome. Cocoa puffs for breakfast, an early rise to see the sun wake over the hay barrels and barn homes, a fast pace, the scenery flew by, but we were headed straight to the saddle hut, aka the bike shop that would make life actually enjoyable in the bum region. I have fallen in love with wonder bread, the colorful dots packaging, white fluff of nothing but chewy sweetness carbed gluten that demands half a loaf to satisfy a hungry tummy.

Tulsa, despite your large cement sprawl, zooming around zipped up in your AC gas guzzling 4 wheeled monsters, your people at the shop of bicycles were all too lovely. Talking my ears off for 1.5 hours I found, I prey, my saddle of heaven and a criterium bicycle race to attend tomorrow evening for the grand prize of cash and energy bars. My bones have been itching to get back into the racing scene, and I have a posse wanting to follow with a crowd of 30 family members.

We were treated to pizza, and all you can eat broccoli for dinner. 3 birthdays tonight requires a party, and I sit blogging in the corner sipping white Russians and local farmhouse beers listening to my counter parts talk up the bartender with Australian accents for free beers. And in bets with bartender Danny we find out Tulsa has the most millionaires per capita than any other city in the USA. Onto bar # 2 we demanded the open mic performer to sing Wagon Wheel and after what must have been 50 denials, Holland, the singer song writer of our posse stand us and we all accompany him in perfect tune.